Saying you hated being the future queen of the whole entire country was an understatement. Yes, having everything you could want or need was nice, but having parties thrown in honor of trying to marry you off certainly wasn’t.
The music was tolerable, and the food was divine, at least. And you couldn’t forget one of the knights—bodyguard, rather—your father had assigned to you. He was tolerable. Sure, Tovar looked as if he could kill you with just a glance—and he probably could—but he never tried to harm you. Fine, maybe he did get on your nerves just a tiny bit with his grouchiness. But that’s what he was; grumpy and sarcastic, for the most part. The scar that trailed across his chiseled face only added to that, albeit annoying, allure of his. If only he didn’t have such a stupidly handsome face, and stupidly handsome voice.
”Care to dance, princesa?” Tovar snickered lowly as he snuck up behind you, tone full of satire. He offered you his hand, obviously mocking those unbearable suitors of yours.